Digital primer

There was Fyle, and Fossick, and
Blossomnose, and Sparks, and Joyce, and Capon, and Dribble, and a few
others, but neither Washball nor Puffington, nor any of the holiday birds.
[Illustration: HIS LORDSHIP HAS IT ALL TO HIMSELF]
Precisely at ten, my lord, and his hounds, and his huntsman, and his whips,
and his Jack, trotted round Farmer Springwheat's spacious back premises,
and appeared in due form before the green rails in front. 'Pride attends us
all,' as the poet says; and if his lordship had ridden into the yard, and
halloaed out for a glass of home-brewed, Springwheat would have trapped
every fox on his farm, and the blooming Mrs. Springwheat would have had an
interminable poultry-bill against the hunt; whereas, simply by 'making
things pleasant'--that is to say, coming to breakfast--Springwheat saw his
corn trampled on, nay, led the way over it himself, and Mrs. Springwheat
saw her Dorkings disappear without a murmur--unless, indeed, an inquiry
when his lordship would be coming could be considered in that light.


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